


A Little Kindness Goes a Long Way

by MinervaFan



Category: Star Trek TOS - Fandom
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-16 04:34:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28825269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MinervaFan/pseuds/MinervaFan
Summary: He may be the only person in history to beat the Kobyashi Maru, but even James T. Kirk is no match for Starfleet Sensitivity Training. Talk about a no-win scenario...
Kudos: 6





	A Little Kindness Goes a Long Way

Doctor Leonard McCoy launched into a full sprint and hurled himself through the closing doors of the turbo. "Not so fast, buddy," he panted to the lift's other occupant. "If you think you're gonna get out of this that easily, you're mistaken."

"Bones, I have work to do." Kirk looked straight into the lift's metal doors, as if the sheer force of his desire to get away from McCoy would somehow make them open faster. "I don't have time for this."

"Dammit, Jim. Every officer in 'Fleet has taken this seminar except you and five other malingerers and malcontents."

"Now, hold on..."

"I don't see what's so--" McCoy paused as the doors slid open, then followed Kirk doggedly onto the bridge. "I don't see what's so damned difficult about a silly little seminar--"

"If you are referring to the `Sensitivity in the Workplace' seminar sponsored by Medical HQ," Spock interjected as he vacated the center seat, "attendance is mandatory for all officers."

Kirk shot him a `just-whose-side-are-you-on-anyway' glare and shook his head. "I don't have time to go traipsing off to some---"

"Of course you have time, Jim," McCoy drawled. "Spock here has arranged everything to make sure you don't have to miss one second of the class."

Kirk turned to the other officers on the bridge, searching for an ally. But Sulu and Uhura were suspiciously engrossed in their work. Even Ensign Chekov seemed suddenly fascinated with a loose wire below the navigation panel. "This is a conspiracy."

"Not at all, Captain," Spock corrected. "Since the class is required, it would be best--"

"Never mind the sales pitch, Spock," Kirk sighed. He turned to McCoy, holding out both hands, palms up. "You win, Doctor. I'll go peacefully." Turning back to Spock with eyes that mirrored his betrayal, he added, "I can't fight both of you."

"Damn right, you can't." McCoy herded him out of the command seat. "You have the con, Spock." 

"Excuse me, but I'm still captain of this ship."

"You're off duty as of ten seconds ago," the doctor corrected.

Kirk looked to Spock with a pathetic look of desperation, but found only blank resignation in those dark Vulcan eyes. Now that he thought of it, when McCoy had dragged Spock off the bridge a few weeks earlier, Kirk hadn't been much help either. "You have the con, Spock," he said under his breath as the doctor pulled him onto the turbo.

* * *

Kirk sat in a small conference room on Starbase Seven, trying not to indulge in revenge fantasies. McCoy had only been doing his job--it wasn't his fault Starfleet Medical forced officers into these ridiculous wastes of time. 

He looked around at the room which would be his home for the next eight hours. A large U-shaped table dominated the room, while a podium and two chairs had been placed in the middle.

Looking around at the other "malingerers and malcontents" who'd managed to delay this to the last possible moment, Kirk saw that McCoy's description wasn't really that much off the mark. Seated directly across the from Kirk was a young Andorian male, clicking happily away at a hand-held computer. Two Human males were engaged in an animated conversation at the far end of the table, while a Deltan female sat quietly at the other end of the "U." 

There were still several empty chairs as the instructors burst into the conference room, their arms full of papers. The first instructor, a full-figured Human female with curly grey hair and a rubberized face addressed the group. "Hi, there. I'm Bella Junquist, and I will be acting as your facilitator for the first half of this Sensitivity class. My partner, Vint Duseau," she nodded to the wiry Human who'd taken one of the two seats flanking the podium, "will take the second half of the class."

She looked around the table slowly. The Andorian was still clicking away in oblivious happiness at his computer, the men had not missed a single beat of their conversation, and Kirk and the Deltan exchanged uncomfortable glances. Junquist sighed. "First of all, let us establish some ground rules. Since this is a sensitivity course, we might want to review a few points of common courtesy." She turned to the wall behind her and clicked on a monitor. "Rule number one," she said, walking through the center of the tables to where the two men had suddenly realized she was looking directly at them, "no side conversations. When one of us is expressing ourselves, I expect all of the group members to listen without interruption."

Junquist turned to the Andorian, pulling the computer from his hands with smooth dexterity. "Rule number two, leave your work in your office. No computers, printouts or anything else. Rule number three--"

The whirring door and a clatter of boots interrupted her. A red-haired Human woman ducked into the room, slipping quickly into the vacant seat next to Kirk. "Sorry," she offered weakly as she quickly wrote her name on the blank card before her.

"Rule number three, uh, _Sharon_ ," Junquist leaned over to read the hastily-scrawled name, "is punctuality. It is unfair to the other members of the class when you are not on time." Junquist returned to the podium, clasping her hands together. 

"And the fourth, and most crucial, rule we need to remember, ladies and gentlemen, is this-- _no rank._ I don't care if you are an Admiral or CPO, in this class, we are all equal." She lowered her head, eyeing each of the class members with an intensity Kirk would've been hard-pressed to match. "And no last names. We are all just Jim, Byron, Bella and so on. Is that understood?" At the indifferent nods, she repeated herself, "Is that understood?" This time, the response was a little more solid. "Good. Now, let's begin..."

The redhead leaned over to Kirk. "Did I miss much?"

"Just the first and second commandments," he whispered, nodding toward the wall monitor. "This is--"

"Jim, have you forgotten rule number one?"

Kirk looked up guiltily as he realized that the entire group was staring at him--the Andorian and Humans grateful to have Junquist's attention drawn away, the Deltan woman completely indifferent, and the facilitators shaking their heads in disappointment. "Uh..."

Junquist sighed. "Now, I realize that this is not a priority for most of you. But the ability to interact with sensitivity is of utmost importance in maintaining morale." She gave Kirk a small sigh and turned back to the podium. "I hope that each and every one of you will give this class one-hundred percent participation. Now, our first exercise is a `getting-to-know-you' game. Starting with..." she turned to the Deltan woman, who had so far maintained an aura of tranquility, "Lanya. Now, I'm going to ask each of you, beginning with Lanya, to tell us your name, your favorite color, and one thing you hope to gain from this experience. The trick is, each sentence has to start with a successive letter of the alphabet, starting with `A.' Lanya," she nodded to the Deltan, who shifted uncomfortably.

Kirk leaned over to Sharon and murmured, "A Deltan in Sensitivity class. It's going to be a long day."

"Shh," she warned. "Rule Number One."

"All right, my name is Lanya," the Deltan stammered. "Uh, blue is my..."

* * *

"Handling conflict in the work place," Junquist began, flipping the screen to the next chapter. "Is one of the single most important factors in maintaining high morale. Whether it's on a starship on the fringe of explored space, or in an information center on a starbase." The facilitator clicked her remote, and a chart entitled "Interactive Skills in the Work Place" flickered onto the wall monitor. "Now, Vint and I are going to do a bit of role-playing, and then we're going to ask for a couple of volunteers."

Duseau joined her in the center of the tables, clapping his hands enthusiastically. "Okay, folks. What we're going to show you is a way to turn a potentially negative situation into a positive one. Remember always the three golden phrases - `I appreciate,' `I understand,' and `How can I help?'"

Junquist nodded. "Here's the situation. I'm Louise, and I've worked six days preparing a flow chart of work processes for the space station's communications system. I feel it has been under-utilized."

"I'm Bill," Duseau inserted. "I'm Louise's supervisor. While I realize she's gone to a lot of trouble, I'm swamped with deadlines and haven't had sufficient time to devote to the flow chart. Here's how the three golden phrases can turn a difficult office situation into a positive experience."

The two facilitators pulled their chairs together, each assuming the roles they were playing. Junquist stepped away, pasted a look of righteous indignation on her face and walked up to the chairs.

"Bill, may I have a minute?" she asked.

"Bill" looked up from his imaginary piles of work. "Sure, Louise. Got that memo from you the other day. What can I do for you?"

"Louise" frowned. "Well, Bill, as you know, I put six days into preparing that flow chart, and you haven't even begun to study the problem yet."

"Bill" placed a reassuring hand on hers. "I see. Louise, I did get to glance over the chart. It looks good. _I appreciate_ all of the hard work you did getting it together."

"Yes, Bill. It did take a lot of effort. I put aside several deadlines to make sure you got it on time."

__

"I understand you completely, Louise. It seems the work just piles up in no time around here. _How can I help you_ get..."

Kirk stifled a yawn, trying with some difficulty not to roll his eyes. During the last role-playing segment, he had inadvertently made eye contact with Sharon and had wound up laughing hysterically. That obviously didn't score any points with Junquist and Duseau. Kirk watched as the two played out their little bureaucratic fantasy. He was willing to bet his little black book that neither of them had spent more than a total of fifteen minutes off-planet in their entire lives. He could imagine using their approach to deal with McCoy. The doctor would make a Kirk-salad sandwich and go out for lunch.

"Okay, Jim," Junquist's voice startled him out of his daze. "I see you'd like to volunteer to play the supervisor in our next scene. Now, who can be the problem?" Her eyes flitted over the small, nervous group and came to light on the Deltan. "Lanya. Let's see you approach Jim with a problem, and see how well he uses the skills he's learned to get out of it."

The Deltan shifted reluctantly in her chair, then joined Kirk in the "office." Kirk could already feel his hormones reacting to her nearness. He cleared his throat and began, "Uh, hello, Lanya. What can I do for you?" Half a dozen lewd suggestions asserted themselves in his mind.

The Deltan smiled slowly. "It seems I have this problem..."

Her voice was like melted sex. Kirk held his breath, trying desperately to remember what Duseau had been saying. As he fumbled through the exercise, one thing became increasingly apparent. They were out to get him.

* * *

Kirk sat in the corner next to Sharon, carefully balancing his tray as he eased himself down to the floor. "Mind if I join you?"

She smiled up at him, swallowing a mouthful of her sandwich as she motioned him next to her. "Well, since we're sharing the same cell, I guess we might as well make the most of it."

"We do seem to be prisoners here," Kirk looked around the room to where his classmates had settled for their noon meal. The Andorian was hovering over something in the far corner. Kirk guessed he had somehow managed to recover his confiscated computer. Byron and Louis were laughing together with Junquist and Duseau at the table while Lanya managed to be as inconspicuous as a Deltan could in her own corner of the room. He turned back to Sharon. "Well, it could've been worse."

"Oh?" The statuesque woman raised her eyebrows. "How? Killer bees? Bubonic plague?"

Kirk grinned boyishly, an almost evil glint lighting his hazel eyes. "They could've figured out a game for meals, too."

Her eyebrows shot up. "Don't give them any ideas," she warned.

"So what do you do in your spare time, Sharon No-Last-Name-No-Rank?" Kirk took a bite of his chicken sandwich and leaned against the wall.

"Mostly, it seems I go to seminars."

"Well, I mean in the twenty-two hours a year they don't have you in seminars," he corrected.

Judging from the pleasant way her civilian jumper hugged her trim figure, Jim Kirk didn't think she spent much time behind a desk. Things were beginning to look up.

"I'm an engineering technician," she said. "And before you start turning on that legendary charm, Captain James T. Kirk of the starship _Enterprise--_ "

"Shh. Rule Number Four." His eyes twinkled merrily.

"Just let me save you some time. I'm attached," she said steadily. "Very attached, if you get my drift." She took a solid bite out of her sandwich.

"Of course." Like a candle in steam, so died the twinkle in the eyes of James T. Kirk. He sighed and continued his lunch. It was going to be a very long day.

* * *

"And how do you feel when that happens, Thelar?" Duseau leaned over to the sobbing Andorian.

"When they deny my work, they deny my own worth," Thelar bawled.

"Oh, come on," Byron groaned across the circle. The class members sat on the floor in a gab circle. "All she did was put it on hold until the next morning. It isn't like she deleted your files."

"I worked two months on that report, you insensitive--"

"Now, let's keep it down," Duseau said in a soothing voice. "Jim, how would you have handled this situation?"

Kirk, mid-yawn, snapped back to attention. The morning had droned on endlessly from one "game" to another. It was everything he could do to keep awake after lunch. "Uh, well..." He turned to Sharon, who shrugged helplessly. "Well, I would have explained to, uh, Thelar that, um, a starship runs on priorities--"

"Don't forget to raise self-esteem, listen with empathy, and offer help," Junquist inserted.

Kirk flashed her a quick look of disgust, but wiped it off immediately when he saw Duseau marking something in his notes. "Uh...while I understood that he had put a good deal of work into his presentation and that his work was valuable, it is, uh, in the best interest of the ship as a whole to," he paused, struggling for the right word. Finally, he threw his hands up in exasperation. "Well, damn it. When you're on a ship in the middle of the Neutral Zone, a captain doesn't want to be bothered with a revised recreational schedule. She was right."

The entire group groaned as Thelar burst into fresh tears. "Nice job, Jim," Sharon murmured. "You got him started again."

"Well, the damn thing wasn't important," Kirk said defensively. 

"It was important to Thelar," Junquist reprimanded.

Kirk looked at the sobbing Andorian, memorizing his features. _If ever, by some fate of God or Hell, you wind up on my ship, Mister..._ "Listen, I know it's important to have courtesy and respect for your officers, but if you take time out for every hair-brained report that crosses your desk--"

"Jim, I thought we had decided not to judge--"

"No, _you_ decided." Kirk stood up, his joints cracking as he forced them out of the pretzel he'd been stuck in for almost an hour. "It's easy for you ground jockeys to go on about feelings and interaction. But out there on the front lines, you don't always have time to be a swell person. Sometimes the only thing between your crew and certain death is your ability to get the job done. And that means priorities." He turned to Thelar, whose antennae were drooping sadly. "And when you are out there, you'll understand. A commanding officer never means to hurt anyone's feelings. But you have to develop a strong skin if you're going to survive in 'Fleet."

Kirk sighed, a sudden feeling of serenity flooding his system. Then he looked around him. Junquist and Duseau were staring at him, arms folded sullenly across their chests. The rest of the class members' expressions ranged from shock to suppressed amusement. Sharon was shaking her head.

"If you are finished with your impromptu lecture, Jim, may we get back to our discussion?" Duseau's tone did not brook any arguments.

Suddenly self-conscious, Kirk dropped back into the gab circle. "Of course."

* * *

Kirk entered the bridge, feeling a welcome sense of relaxation as he slipped confidently into the command chair. He turned to McCoy and Spock, who flanked the center seat. "Well, gentlemen, it seems I've completed my required duties. Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to get back to business as usual."

"Well, Jim, that's fine with me, but I think you ought to--"

"Bones, I don't hold anything against you." He smiled indulgently at the older man. "I know you were just doing your job." Leaning back in the chair, Kirk said, "You know, it wasn't that bad. Oh, there was a lot of foolishness, but some of it might come in handy someday."

"Uh, Jim--"

"I'm just glad it's over."

McCoy turned to Spock, whose eyebrows shot skyward. "You wanna tell him, Spock?"

"Tell me what?" 

Spock took a deep breath. "Doctor McCoy has received the results of your seminar."

"And?" For the first time since Kirk had known Spock, the Vulcan seemed speechless. He turned to McCoy. "Bones? What were the results?"

The doctor shifted nervously. "Well, Jim..."

"Come on, Bones, I'm a busy man."

"You failed."

Kirk's eyebrow's mimicked Spock's. "I what?"

"Your final evaluation was five percent lower than the acceptable level, Captain," Spock explained evenly. "The lowest score on record," he added apologetically.

"You flunked." McCoy shook his head in disgust. "We heard about your extemporaneous lecture. A stupid little seminar. Every officer on this ship managed to get through it. How do you think this looks? `Captain of Flagship Blows Sensitivity Training.'"

"I _flunked_?" Kirk looked around the bridge for any clue that this was some sort of cruel joke, but the crew were even more intent on their work than ever. 

"Now I have to schedule you for another seminar," McCoy griped. "Imagine--the lowest score in the history of Starfleet. Only one other person even came close."

"Isn't there any way I can get out of it?" Kirk knew from the look on McCoy's face that it was not a possibility. "I just lost my temper once! Once! They can't flunk me for that."

"Obviously, they can," Spock said softly.

__

Et tu, Spock. "Well, it isn't fair."

McCoy chuckled. "Come on, Jim. It wasn't that bad."

Kirk glared at him. "Get off my bridge, Bones."

McCoy refused to take the hint. "Maybe you could ask Spock for pointers." The doctor's grin broadened. "Then again, maybe you should ask Uhura." He turned to Spock with an evil look. "Who do you think got the second to lowest score?"

Kirk stared at Spock, eyes wide; but the Vulcan remained impassive. "You, Spock?" As the Vulcan remained silent, Kirk struggled to keep the laughter in. Finally, when the image of Spock sitting in a circle on the floor with a sobbing Andorian became too much to bear, he burst joined the rest of the bridge crew in a hearty laugh. "All right, Bones. Sign me up." Kirk raised one eyebrow in a most Spock-ian fashion. "If he can survive it, anyone can."

end


End file.
